It starts from the Alexander Gardens, the old western bank of the stream Neglinnaia that once strengthened the defences of the Kremlin; passes the entrance to the riding school, one of the great things Moscow has produced since the fire of 1812. The length of this building is 360 feet, breadth 168, and its wooden roof, unsupported by perpendicular stanchions, was considered a wonder of the world, when Alexander first manoeuvered 2000 infantry, and 1000 cavalry beneath it. Then come the Universities, the old and the new, one on each hand; beyond, on the left, is the Nikitsky Monastery, enclosing four churches, one dating from the founding of the monastery in 1682, at the end of the "golden age." On the opposite side is the Academy of Science, on this the Conservatorium, facing it a quaint old church of primitive architecture and diminutive size; above its lowly belfry rears the square brick-built tower of an English Church. The house of a boyard here, of a prince there, bear names of note in Moscow's history, as Gagarin, Galitzin, Chernichev, designate the owners of the houses on either side, and of the side streets to right and left. The further from the Kremlin, the centre, the more frequent and greater the inducement to turn aside to inspect more closely the glittering and gaudy domes of churches, old and new, which are thickly sprinkled over the whole district. Nor can the stranger easily do amiss whichever way he turns. If towards the left, a curious lofty belfry of open masonry will repay careful scrutiny, and reveal close by other domed and pinnacled temples, lost amidst this multitude of white walls and luxuriant verdure. If to the right, two churches in close proximity, of unique design and, probably, oppressive colouring, will encourage to further explorations in the same direction. The oldest churches in the neighbourhood of the Arbat are, Boris and Gleb, 1527; Tikhon, the wonder-worker, 1689; but the Church of the Transfiguration is one of the most beautiful. In the Povarskaya, is that of St Simon Stylite, 1676, and near, another interesting church--Rojdestvenka. Probably Moscow does not charm so strongly by reason of any particular building or style as by the great diversity of its houses and churches, both in design and colouring. More especially in those quarters where the wooden log-houses still linger in their gardens, and where the frame-houses are all made gay with white, cream, blue-gray, yellow and pink body colour, and the roofs of dark green or still darker crimson; there Moscow seems to belong to another world. It is, alas, disappearing fast, and the spacious courtyards, with their trees and the gardens gay with giant lilacs and golden-chain, are being built on, and houses that stand shoulder to shoulder in plain and hideous uniformity level up the largest village to the standard of a modern town made in Germany.